


A Match Made in Hell

by Killyousall



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Asexual Character, Breeding, Love/Hate, M/M, Matchmaking, Mating, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 16:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13104501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killyousall/pseuds/Killyousall
Summary: Three years after Zim learned the truth of his mission, the Irken Empire is dwindling in numbers. Artificial reproduction is failing and the control brains are left with only one option. Reproduce naturally, or face extinction. But when the Tallest are told of their chosen matches, can they follow through and add to the new empire, or will old grudges lead to a match made in hell. (RaZr, Red/Zim)(PaSr, Purple/Skoodge)





	1. It's over, isn't it?

“Incoming Transmisson, my Tallest. It’s coming from…um…”

“Just spit it out!”

“Earth.”

A loud groan echoed throughout the Massive at the well known coordinate. If ever their were a planet to avoid, it was earth. No place in the galaxy sounded more horrid to an Irken. And it was not because of the toxic environment, or the boiling sun. It was not because of the stupidity of its inhabitants. It was for the simple fact that the most dangerous and insane Irken to ever exist just happened to live there.

“Zim.” both Tallest seethed with open disdain. Tallest Red stood with a deep sigh, leaving his co-ruler, Purple, to fall limp on their personal couch, complaining loudly.

“It’s not fair, Red! What did we ever do to deserve this, huh? HUH? More importantly, what did I do?” No one dared to speak, for fear of being thrown out the air lock. Red ignored him, staring up at the screen as it awaited his orders. Maybe he should just ignore it. Maybe Zim would finally realize that he wasn’t wanted and would never call again… And maybe Purple would do some actual work for once.

…yeah right.

“Would it have killed him to wait another month? I was getting used to the quiet.” he ground out.

“It’s your own fault, ya know.” Purple pointed out, shoveling a greasy handful of chips into his mouth. You keep answering. Stop humoring the little weirdo.”

“I didn’t see you complaining when he turned into a meat monster.” Red shot back, causing Purple to throw his hands up in defense, spilling chips everywhere. “Well, excuse me if the suffering of others amuses me. I’m only Irken, Red.”

Red scoffed, turning his attention back to the main screen. Silence ensued as he mentally battled with his instincts and his own curiosity. As annoying as he was, once in a while, Zim managed to scrape up some interesting information about the human race. Red still had a hard time wrapping his brain around the concept of a creature that was tall, yet dumb. It defied logic.

“Look, Voel,” The red eyed Irken’s lekku twitched. Purple…Theron rarely used his real name. “Why don’t we just tell him? The sooner we get it over with, the sooner we can be rid of the creepy little gremlin.

“Theron, I highly doubt he’ll even listen.”

“Oh, he’d better listen. Cause I’m getting pretty sick of hearing the words ‘MY TALLEST’ coming out of that twerp’s mouth.”

Voel sighed, nodding in resignation. Theron was right. They couldn’t keep up this charade forever…Well, they probably could, but why would they want to?

“Besides, you where acting weird those last few calls. You didn’t even laugh when the hamster bit him. What’s with that?”

Voel waved off his co-ruler’s questions. “Whatever…Just patch him through and let’s get this over with.” he ordered. The last thing he needed was Theron harassing him with baseless accusations. Yes, he no longer found joy in torturing the insane defect, but that didn’t mean he hated him any less.

And it was only proven by the deep seed of aggravation he felt the moment Zim’s stupidly happy face took over the main screen. He mentally prepared himself for the adoring proclamation of ‘MY TALLEST’ that would surely be followed by whatever inane plan he’d come up with to destroy the humans. As if that would ever happen. Zim was a walking disaster. All his plans ended in failure and destruction, usually decimating literally everything but the intended target. Zim was a danger to anyone who he associated with. Just ask Skoodge.

Voel was pulled from his thoughts when Theron spoke up, cutting off the small Irken’s ramblings. “That’s enough, Zim. We didn’t call to hear whatever stupid thing you’re gonna blow up this time. We-”

“But, I called you.” Zim corrected, clearly not noticing the blatant insult. Voel’s hand made contact with his forehead, as Theron’s face soured. As much as the purple clad tallest loved correcting others mistakes, he was hardly appreciative when the same was done to him.

“I…you… nnnGAAAH! RED, YOU TELL’ EM! I CAN’T DO THIS!” Theron screeched, throwing himself back on the couch and ripping open a fresh bag of chips. Voel shook his head in disgust. As always, it was left to him to do all the work. “Gee, thanks partner.” he seethed, only receiving a wave. “No problem, Red.”

He turned back to the screen with a scowl as Zim stared at Theron with wary confusion. “Ooookaaay, what crawled into his pack?” the fake invader joked, aiming a grin at Voel as if they were good friends. Far too familiar for his taste. He’d allowed the defect to chase these delusions for too long. In the past, the tallest would have thoroughly enjoyed putting him in his place. Now, though, he simply wished to get it over with and end this conversation. A sick, twisting feeling filled his squeedly spooch. He ignored it.

“Irken defect Zim, we are officially banishing you to the planet known as Earth.” He spoke solemnly, knowing that there was no way the false invader could twist or ignore his words, no matter how deluded he was. He watched with a blank expression as Zim’s smile fell, replaced with anxious confusion.

“W-what? …b-but, My Tallest, I-”

Voel pressed on, ignoring him. “You will not be allowed to leave the aforementioned planet. Should you attempt to do so, you will be immediately deactivated. Do you understand?”

Zim shook his head with violent denial. “N-NO! I DON’T UNDERSTAND? W-WHAT HAS ZIM DONE TO-”

“You will be sent a file, with a list of all your crimes. What you do with this knowledge is up to you. Following this your computer will be cut from all transmissions outside of Earth’s atmosphere. That will be all.” Voel finished, turning away to signal the end of the call. Zim, however wasn’t done.

“B-BUT, WHAT ABOUT MY MISSION!?!” he choked, as if it was his last lifeline. Voel didn’t hesitate to rip it from him. He spun around, finally breaking from his mask of indifference and letting his anger slip.

“Listen to me VERY carefully, ZIM! There is no mission. There wasn’t even supposed to be a planet. You were sent out into the middle of nowhere to DIE!”

“YEAH!” Theron jumped from the couch with a cheer, egging him on.

“To PERISH!”

“WOO!”

“To DISSAPPEAR, and NEVER taint the Empire with your presence AGAIN!”

“YOU TELL 'EM, RED!”

“The only reason we’ve humored you thus far, is because your suffering amused us.”

“Yeah, we’re easily amused.” Theron shrugged.

“Well, we’re not laughing anymore. I think all of us can agree we’re tired of watching your dumb plans blow up in your face.” All other Irkens in the room mumbled and nodded in agreement.” Face it! You’re a failure, not only as an Invader, but as an Irken! Thus, we are stripping you of all status affiliated with the Empire and all it’s conquered properties. You will stay on that planet, AND YOU WILL NOT LEAVE! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!”

All attention in the control room turned back to Zim, He stood frozen. His face was pale, and his ocular implants had dulled with every insult thrown at him. They partially wondered if his pack had malfunctioned and shut down from the sheer dismissal of his leaders. They all jumped when he finally spoke.

“…As you wish,…..My Tallest.” He addressed the both of them, but his disturbingly empty stare never strayed from Voel.

Everyone held their breath as sharp, spider-like metal legs exited his pack, lifting high above the dead looking Irken. Voel couldn’t deny, he flinched when the legs came down, expecting them to slice through the small, frail body of the defect. Instead they pierced the control board, sending waves of electricity through the metal and into Zim. The screen cut out to static, leaving them with the image of Zim’s body seizing violently, burned into their minds. All was silent… until Theron spoke up.

“Well…..he took that well….don’t cha think?” Voel shook his head in disgust, as he watched his co-tallest shove donuts into his big mouth. At least it was over with. Whether that had killed him or not, they no longer had to worry about Zim bothering them ever again. Voel sat down, taking a donut for himself. Yeah…from here on out, everything could be perfect. No more Zim.


	2. Can we get a second opinion?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years after Zim learned the truth of his mission, the Irken Empire is dwindling in numbers. Artificial reproduction is failing and the control brains are left with only one option. Reproduce naturally, or face extinction. But when the Tallest are told of their chosen matches, can they follow through and add to the new empire, or will old grudges lead to a match made in hell. (RaZr, Red/Zim)(PaSr, Purple/Skoodge)

Years passed and the Tallest eventually forgot about the Irken defect that had for so long plagued their lives. Or at least that's what Theron tried to achieve. He made a point of throwing anyone who so much as mentioned Zim out the airlock, each time giving his co-ruler a not so subtle glance. True, hearing that name always put Voel in a fowl mood, but he didn't appreciate Theron's almost skittish behavior when it came to the subject. As if Voel were a mere smeet.

“My Tallest?”

Voel shook his head of his thoughts, trying once more to focus on the small irken female who was leading him throughout the Smeetery. Normally Theron would be lagging behind him for routine evaluations, accompanied by his immature comments of how tiny and stupid the newly born smeets were. But, this evaluation was anything but routine. It was a disaster.

“Proceed, Dr. Shay.” he ordered, trying his best to focus his tired mind on what she was saying. She nodded, leading him into the incubation bay. “Certainly, My Tallest. As I was saying, even with all our Vortian scientists looking into it, we haven't found what's causing the new hatchlings to expire. At this rate, I fear they won't even make it through incubation.”

Voel stopped in front of one of the incubation chambers, eyeing it's tiny inhabitant. Dr. Shay was correct. They looked horrible. Their skin was a sickly, pale shade of green. Barely large enough to be called a smeet. As if hearing his dismissive thoughts, the green light on the chamber began flashing red, a blaring alarm going off as the frail form began seizing violently. Voel's frozen form was pushed out of the way by a medic who frantically began pushing buttons. Whatever they were trying to do, it didn't work. The alarm went silent. The lights stopped flashing. The smeet went still. It was too late. Another lost. Dr. Shay let out an exhausted sigh. “That's the fifth one today.”

Voel let her words sink in. Fifth. Soon it would be six a day. Then seven. This wasn't going to stop. And with the amount of soldiers they lost to the Resisty in the last year alone, those numbers could steadily add up. In their attempts to take over the universe, they had made many enemies who sought to crush them. It was impossible to ignore the threat of extinction. Another alarm went off. Voel ignored it, refusing to watch as more of his empire diminished before his eyes. He silently made his way back to the Massive, mind plagued with the image of the sickly smeet before it's death. They needed to talk to the Control brains.  
\----- 

“Oh come on, Red, I'm sure it's not as bad as you think. You worry too much.” Theron griped, as he followed his partner into the Main Brain Meeting room. “You didn't see it, Pur. It was dead before it was even born. Didn't even have a pack yet.”

Theron scoffed. “So? Irken's die every day! We can make more.”

Voel shook his head. Theron just didn't get it. “No, we CAN'T! THAT'S THE PROBLEM!” The purple eyed Tallest rolled his oculars, but before he could argue, he was cut off by the Main Brain.

[ TALLEST VOEL IS CORRECT. WE NO LONGER HAVE THE LUXURY OF MASS PRODUCING THE IRKEN RACE! EVERY IRKEN THAT EXPIRES WEAKENS THE EMPIRE. EVEN THE MOST MINUSCULE LIVES MUST BE SECURED IF YOU ARE TO SURVIVE. WE HAVE ALREADY STARTED A NEW CAMPAIGN! WE CALL IT 'ALL IRKEN LIVES MATTER.']

“Woah woah,” Theron interrupted, waving his hands. “Sooo let me get this straight. Bobby, the table headed drone? He matters?”

[...YES.]

“What about Creek? Y'know that weird guy who's obsessed with rocks? What about him?]

[AFFIRMATIVE!]

“Blik?”

[YUP.]

“Hmmm... Not Doogy, though, right? He owes me moneys.”

[HIM TOO.]

“Crud.”

[THERE IS NO ONE NAMED CRUD IN OUR DATA BANK.]

Voel smacked Theron over the head. “Will you stop it! This is serious. We're not risking the empire just cause you wanna throw people out of air locks for petty reasons.”

“My reasons are perfectly valid. That last guy looked at me funny.”

Voel shook his head before turning back to the giant computer brains. “We need a plan. There's got to be some way to salvage the empire. Artificial smeet hatching is no longer an option we can risk. Do you have any ideas.” They had to. Their race depended on it.

All was silent as the computers whirred and blipped. The Irken Empire had relied on the Control Brains for eons. The artificial intelligence was made to take care of and protect the Irken race. Like the parent no Irken had. It's decisions had only ever been in their benefit. So whatever plan it could come up with, they would obey without question. It was law. Red held his breath as the computer spoke up finally.

[WE HAVE COME TO A DECISION. BUT IF IT IS TO SUCCEED, ALL IRKENS MUST PARTICIPATE. THAT INCLUDES THOSE OF HIGH RANK. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?]

Voel nodded. “Yes, whatever it takes.” As long as it worked, he was willing to do it.

[IF ARTIFICIAL HATCHING IS NO LONGER AN OPTION THEN THE ONLY COURSE IS TO RETURN TO THE METHODS OF NATURAL SMEET REPRODUCTION.]

Both Tallest blinked silently.

[WE HAVE ALREADY BEGUN A LIST, COMPRISED OF WHICH ARE THE NAMES OF IRKENS BEST SUITED FOR COUPLING. ALL MATCHES WILL BE GENETICALLY COMPATIBLE.]

Theron spit out his soda all over Voel. “Red... They want us to make mooky, Red!”

[I NEVER SPECIFIED THAT YOU WERE A MATCH. YOUR MATCHES HAVE ALREADY BEEN CHOSEN.]

“B-but, I'm too pretty to be tied down! I can't have smeets! I couldn't even remember to feed the space hampster!”

Voel rose an alarmed brow. “You're not supposed to feed it, Pur! It's already too big for it's cage.”

“See!” Theron gestured frantically. “I can't even starve a hampster right!”

[WE ANTICIPATED THIS. ALL KNOWLEDGE OF SMEET REERING WILL BE DOWNLOADED INTO EVERY PACK. IT WILL INCLUDE A RIGOROUS SCHEDUAL AND INSTRUCTIONS ON-]

The purple eyed tallest paused his rant, looking offended. “Hey! Nobody tells me how to raise my smeet. You can keep your fancy baby manual.”

Voel ignored his partner's stubborn whining to address the Brain. “You're sure this is the only way.”

[AFFIRMATIVE.]

“...you mentioned a list. These matches will produce healthy smeets, correct? It's not just random DNA scrambling.”

[ALSO AFFIRMATIVE. THEY WILL BE STABLE.]

The tallest's lekku twitched in thought. “Can you foresee any negative ramifications from this course of action?” he asked.

[THERE IS ONLY ONE.]

“Which is?”

[THE HEIRARCHY WILL SUFFER.]

Both tallest frowned at this. “Meaning?” They didn't like where this was going.

[ALL SMEETS WILL BE EQUAL IN HIGHT.]

“...HOW?” Theron demanded with a scowl.

[IT IS SIMPLY MATHMATICAL. IF WE WERE TO MATCH TWO SHORT AND THUS WEAKER IRKENS, THEN THE RESULTING SMEET WOULD NOT BE IDEAL. TO PREVENT THIS, WE CONCLUDE IT IS BEST TO MATCH TALLERS WITH SHORTERS. THUS RESULTING IN ALL AVERAGE IN HIGHT, BUT STILL STABLE, SMEETS.]

“Then the hierarchy ends with our rein.” Voel's lekku twitched in agitation. “But we're the tallest! If your calculations are correct then that means that we'd be matched with only the shortest Irkens!”

[AFFIRMATIVE.]

“Computer I demand to know who on Irk you matched us with.” he ordered. Theron nodded in agreement. “Yeah, spill!”

[NOT ON IRK.]

….

“What?” Voel could feel his blood run cold. For a short moment, the fan whirring in his pack stilled in panic.

“Yeah, what he said! What?”

[YOUR CHOSEN MATCHES DO NOT RESIDE ON IRK.]

Horror began to sink in as a slow realization took hold over the red eyed leader. He grew pale. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. All remaining Irkens had been ordered by their packs to return to the home planet for their safety. The only reason one wouldn't return would be exile. And that meant...

Theron seemed unperturbed. “Oh, so they're on the massive then? Please tell me it's not that one that eats gum off the tables. I hate that guy.”

[NEGATIVE. YOUR MATCHES RESIDE ON THE PLANET KNOWN AS-]

Voel felt sick. Oh dear Irk, please don't let it be-

[EARTH.]

“NOOOOOOO!!!!” he wailed in agony.

Theron's jaw dropped. He backpedaled. “I take it back! The gum guy is fine!”

Voel slammed his head repeatedly into a nearby panel as his stubborn partner tried in vain to bargain with the computer.

“I'll give you a donut! A waffle! Anything! Just change the list!” he pleaded pathetically.

[I DO NOT REQUIRE SUCH SUSTINENCE. I APPOLOGIZE, TALLEST THERON, BUT IT IS FOR THE GOOD OF ALL IRKEN KIND!]

“I don't care about that! I never asked for this job. I just wanted to be lazy and eat snacks!” Voel watched silently as the mighty Irken leader curled into a fetal position on the ground. It was true. In their youth days at the academy, they had always joked about becoming tallest in the future. But that had only been an effort to shatter a certain egotistical defect's delusions of grandeur. They never thought it would come true. Ironically enough, it was that same defect's mistakes that led to them landing the job. And it had been amazing at first. But they soon learned that being in charge was a lot more than ordering around the more squat Irkens. Everyone looked up to them to be a pillar of strength and intelligence. To know every answer to every problem, and to fix it. It was a stroke of luck that they made up for each others inadequacies. Voel was a natural leader and knew how to appeal to the masses, but he wasn't all that academically gifted. On the other hand, Theron was plenty intelligent and could read people better, but he was antisocial and didn't handle pressure well.

Voel sighed in resignation. “Theron, get off the floor and stop groveling like a smeet. The Control Brains are right.”

“WHAT?” Theron cried in shock and outrage. “VOEL, IT'S EARTH!”

“I KNOW IT'S EARTH!” The tired leader shot back, before calming himself at the sight of his friends hurt expression. “I know. But, if we don't do this, then how can we even be called leaders? The others won't agree to this on their own. We need to set an example. We need to do what's best for Irk.” He held up his gauntlet covered hand up, staring at the empty spot where a thumb once resided. “We took an oath. We made a sacrifice to show that we were strong enough to hold up the Empire with only two fingers. Do you really want that to be for nothing?”

Theron flexed his own claws, face twisting at the phantom pain. He shook his head silently, looking resentful at his partner for knowing just which buttons to push to get his way. “Fine, Red. You win! Happy? But just know that I don't like it, and I'm going to complain about it relentlessly. You've been warned!” he pointed a dramatic claw in Voel's face before resuming his sulking. The other remained unimpressed.

Voel sighed heavily, steeling himself for the inevitable. “Control Brains... What are the names of our respective matches?” There were only two possibilities and neither were pleasant. If fate were kind, then he would be spared with the lesser of two evils. But fate was a cruel mistress who chose to laugh in his face.

[TALLEST RED, YOUR MATCH IS-]

He fought the urge to vomit.

[ZIM.]

He failed. He didn't know if it was from nerves or pure revulsion at the name, but he found himself heaving into a paper bag of donuts. Normally he would expect such a childish reaction from his counterpart. Unfortunately it was Theron who felt the need to rub it in his face.

The purple eyed tallest placed his hands on his hips in reprimand. “Oh well that's just swell. You see, Red. I told you this was a bad idea, but did you listen. No! You had to be responsible. And now look. The donuts are ruined.” He paused his rant for a moment to register the Control Brain's answer. “Wait...If you got Zim... then that means...oh poop!” His eyes widened in fearful realization.

[AFFIRMATIVE. YOU'RE MATCH IS SKOODGE]

Theron ripped the bag away from his partner, emptying his own stomach into the sack.


	3. Fuck or Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years after Zim learned the truth of his mission, the Irken Empire is dwindling in numbers. Artificial reproduction is failing and the control brains are left with only one option. Reproduce naturally, or face extinction. But when the Tallest are told of their chosen matches, can they follow through and add to the new empire, or will old grudges lead to a match made in hell?

“Oh come on, It was a perfectly logical course of action!”

“No, it wasn't! And the fact that it fits perfectly into YOUR twisted realm of logic, only proves it was stupid.”

“You're just mad because you didn't think of it first, Dib-stink.”

“I'm mad because I had to pay for every single doughnut you licked.” 'Dib-stink', grumbled, juggling four boxes of assorted donuts. Beside him, grinning with proud glee and licking frosting off his claws, was a being that to any onlooker with the the mental capacity of a fish, would look almost human. Dib was far smarter than any fish. Than most humans for that matter. Dib knew better. He'd known better since he was a child. He'd just stopped caring.

As long as Zim wasn't plotting to take over the planet, Dib no longer felt obliged to scream the truth of his species to unwilling ears. Why bother when it just looked like he was harassing the depressed kid with a skin condition? Still, he kept an eye on him, knowing that the the former Invader was a danger, if not to others, then to himself. Which is why he oftentimes found himself an unwilling accomplice to Zim's shenanigans, and paying a high price for his poor choice of company. Times like now.

“Poor unimaginative, Dib. You fail to see the true brilliance that is Zim.”The disguised alien put his hands behind his head and spun around, now walking backwards in front of Dib. “Think of it. How am I to know which doughnuts I want, if I do not sample all of them? Had I not done so, we would not have known that they are all delicious and thus all worth buying.” he declared with a smirk, grabbing another doughnut from the top box. Clearly too busy stuffing his face to offer help.

Dib frowned disapprovingly. “You nearly barfed when you licked the Poop-chocolate doughnut. Besides, what the hell are we going to do with four dozen donuts, Space Boy? We can't eat all this.”

Zim gasped loudly, placing a dramatic claw over his Squeedly Spooch in offense. “I'm appalled you would think me so selfish, human! Have I not proven myself an honorable and law abiding citizen by now.” Dib rose a skeptical brow. “We shall share our bounty with the less fortunate, of course!”

Dib stared at the alien in surprise. “...well...I'm pretty sure there are no laws about hording pastries, but...that's actually pretty nice of you. I'm pretty sure there's a soup kitchen around here, we could-” Zim reared back, looking appalled.

“What? No, of course not! I meant Gir and Skoodge! I'm not giving these to filthy hobos Dib! They eat babies, not doughnuts. Of all the absurdity to come out of your filthy mouth.”

Dib opened his mouth in question before thinking better of it and shaking his head. It was a common occurrence when conversing with the insane extraterrestrial. Following that line of questioning would only lead to regret. And extensive therapy.

“And it's a wonder they can even afford to crave infant flesh. Especially when the rest of the populace constantly complains about how expensive babies are.” Zim pondered allowed. “You humans put an absurd amount of stock into your species' young. The very moment a human is losing an argument they they start blathering about the well being of children. I fail to see the appeal.”

Dib shrugged. “Well we can agree on that at least. It's kind of an instinctual survival thing, I guess. Despite being overpopulated, we live in a sex crazed society that would rather deal with the consequences than keep it in their pants. And once they're stuck with the results, they want everyone else to join in their misery, or else be claimed emotionally dead.” He let out a sigh, plopping himself down on a nearby bench along with the donuts. Zim followed suit, instead sitting on the back rest with his combat boots planted on the seat. “Heck that's the only reason I even exist. Dad's PRs thought he needed more relatability to appeal for funding, so he cloned himself a kid. No surprise, people freaked and called it unnatural and creepy. So he adopted Gaz to appease the masses. She was pretty pissed when she found out.”

Zim scoffed, allowing himself to slide down next to Dib. “That's stupid. Why are you humans so obsessed with blood relations anyway? Natural birth can lead to just as many complications. If not more! Heck, all Irkens are created through artificial means and it works perfectly for us...well, most of us!” Dib narrowed his eyes as the Irken began flexing his claws. “I mean most of our internal processors are replaced with bio-tech upon hatching anyway, so we can place most of our survival into our paks. They run everything!” His claw dragged hesitantly against his arm. “Our squeedily-spooch. Our ocular implants...our... our brains... B-but they can't all run perfectly I gue-HEY! WHAT ARE YOU-?” Zim gawked as hand was suddenly gripped and held tight.

“WHAT THE HELL, DIB-STINK?” the alien demanded, struggling to pull the appendage from the human's clutches. Dib simply shook his head and pulled both hands into his jacket pocket. “You were going to scratch again.” he scolded.

Zim blinked as understanding slowly sunk in. “I... I wasn't...” He stared down at the sleeves of his army green wind breaker jacket before scowling and ripping his arm back more harshly than necessary. His bone popped in a painful fashion, but he didn't flinch. For now it satisfied the urge to do worse. “I can handle it myself, Dib!”

“Is that what you call handling it?” Dammit. That had come out harsher than he'd intended.

“I'm not a smeet! I'm not defective! And I DON'T need your constant surveillance, Earth Monkey! I'm FINE!”

“That's NOT fine, Zim!”

“WHY DO YOU CARE?”

Silence filled the air between the two as they stared at one another. It wasn't the first time Zim had tried to stare him down over this issue. It had taken a whole year to make Zim realize he wasn't trying to hurt him anymore. And another year for him to completely relax around the human. And yet for all his effort, Zim still refused to believe that Dib saw them as friends. The last thing he wanted was for Zim to hide away in his lab again.

“Look,” he sighed, “I won't tell Skoodge, but you should at least let computer know you're relapsing.”

“It's not a relapse. I'm fine!” Zim hissed stubbornly.

“I can't trust that.”

By now the Irken looked desperate. Fidgeting and stretching his claws. Dib could even see his lekku twitching under the gel spiked wig. He felt bad causing the alien such distress, but Zim had lied too many times before. He couldn't risk it.

“I'll prove it! I'll stay at you're house for the week if you wish, human, just don't tell Skoodge.” If his housemate caught wind of this, he'd never be left alone again.

Dib searched the Irken's face for any trace of deceit. Finding none his gaze softened. “Fine. But we stay in the same room, same bed. Got it?” It wasn't rare for them to share the same sleeping space. He had even taken to spooning the alien when the other allowed it. He slept far better knowing his friend couldn't sneak off undetected.

“Oh?” Zim purred mischievously, clearly looking to diffuse the situation through playful teasing. “That's awfully forward, Dib-stick. And here I thought you held no interest in such activities. Should I be worried for my virtue?”

Dib's face dropped in annoyance. He knew the alien was just joking. Both of them were clearly asexual. Zim specifically by species. But it never ceased to irk him when the former invader implied otherwise in public.

“You're about as virtuous as a cockroach, Zim.” he hissed.

The alien simply cackled loudly, jumping up on the bench once more. “HELP! POLICE! HE WANTS TO STICK HIS CHURRO IN MY DONUT HOLE! I'M IN DANGER OF BEING GLAZED AND CREAM FILLED!”

“Can we go back to you stuffing your face and not talking. I liked that. Let's go back to that.” Dib grumbled.

Zim simply scoffed in response, swiping a jelly doughnut and gnawing into it with his razor sharp teeth. “Happy now?”

“I will be when you learn to chew with your mouth closed.”

 

* * *

“Oh for Irk's sake, Theron, swallow your food before you speak. No one want's to see that. Least of all me.”

“I EAT WHEN I'M NERVOUS, OK!” Theron shrieked between bites of half chewed waffle. Voel swiped the plate of sweet breads from his co-ruler's grasp, ignoring his whines of protest. “You also throw up when you're nervous.”

“That's completely unrelated.” Theron pouted. Voel sighed heavily, pinching the skin between his eyes before directing his attention to the digital files in front of him. He felt sick just looking at the declining lines of the graph, indication their steadily dropping population. It had been eons since their species had outgrown Irk and begun to conquer other planets. At first it had been out of necessity. Eventually it turned into a show of strength for the empire. They conquered useless planets and turned them into a means of convenience and entertainment. Which was why he felt so unnerved. There had been worry that calling all Irkens back to the home planet would result in overcrowding. It didn't. In fact it had been fairly easy for everyone to find lodgings upon their arrival. It was much worse than he'd imagined.

“Their not gonna be happy with us, Red! I can feel it.” His lekku twitched as Theron began pacing (well...floating) wildly in front of him. “They're already pissed that we called off Impending Doom 2 and surrendered all the conquered planets! Generations of conquering, all down the drain! We look like wimps, Red! They're gonna revolt, I just know it!”

Voel waved him off. “Our approval ratings won't matter much if they're all dead, Pur. We'll have to simply convince them that it's in their best interest.” He stood with a sudden grin, nudging past the unimpressed Irken. “And if worst comes I'll just tell them it was your idea.”

Theron gaped at his co-ruler, following quickly behind. “THAT'S NOT FUNNY, RED!”

 

* * *

“My Tallest, we have arrived.”

Both leaders watched silently as the massive descended down to the main docking bay of Irk. It had been only a month since they'd last graced their home planet with their presence. Even so there was sure to be a ruckus upon their arrival. They were counting on it. There would be no time to set up a formal announcement. They wouldn't be staying that long.

Sure enough, there was a crowd outside. In the corner of his eye, Voel watched Theron clam up, fully expecting an angry mob. “Look, it'll be fine, alright! “he tried to assure. “We'll be in and out of here in no time.”

Theron scoffed. “That doesn't make me feel better, Voel! If anything it's worse. I'd rather stay on a planet full of bloodthirsty Irkens than mate with Skoodge!” Voel rose a brow. “Is there really a difference?” he questioned, earning a look of contempt. “Ask me that again when you can hear Zim's name without barfing.” A sudden onset of nausea had the red leader hunched over and nodding in defeat. “Fair enough.” he moaned.

Eventually they were given the okay by security, who assured them that a stage had been assembled right outside the doors, barred off from the public by laser fences. The cameras were all set up for a live broadcast, all over the planet. It was time.

The moment the doors opened they steeled themselves of all nervousness. They were dignified. They were strong. They were leaders. They were the almighty Tallest. And they would be the last. They stepped into underside of the stage and onto a hover platform which lead them all the way to the top. The moment they were revealed, the crowd got louder. It was hard to tell if they were cheering or not. Either way they seemed excited. They both waved to the crowd as they always would.

“Thank you! Thank you! It's great to be back! Really it is! I mean who would want to miss any of our homecoming parties! So many free snacks, right?” Voel joked, earning a cheer from the crowd. One rather thick looking Irken dropped to his knees, yelling, “I LOVE SNACKS!” Theron nodded, looking a bit disgusted. “I'm sure to do. Unfortunately, for you guys and us, We won't be able to attend the festivities ourselves.”

A murmur of confusion took over the cheers, a few irkens now looking unsettled. Since when would the tallests miss an opportunity to celebrate themselves.

Voel nodded. “Yes, unfortunately, this is correct. Which is why we came here on such short notice to announce a matter of importance.” the crowd went silent, allowing him to speak. “I know things have been hard for you all, being confined so suddenly to Irk. Under any other circumstances, we would have held this conference at the Convenchy Hall Planet. But that planet is no longer under our ruling. I regret to inform that none of the conquered planets are safe. The Resisty created ties with our foes in hopes to abolish the empire. We had to bargain the now liberated planets in an agreement that Irk would go untouched. The only possible ally we have now is the Planet Jackers.”

Horrified, fearful, and angry murmurs began to spread throughout the crowd. Theron shook his head. He couldn't take this any more, he wanted it to be over and done with. He took the stage in front of Voel. “Look, guys, it sucks! I know it does, but that's not important right now! What's important is that we're all going extinct and the control brain says we have to make mooky! Sorry, I don't make the rules!”

This did it. Cries of outrage and protest erupted as pandemonium spread like wildfire. Voel wouldn't have been surprised if there were multiple casualties from the uproar alone. He glared at Theron.

“Subtle...Real Subtle.” he hissed. Theron shrugged. “Hey! I tells it like it is.”

With a growl, Voel pulled a device from his pack. Turning a knob it began transmitting calming signals throughout the hive-mind of the paks. Soon the crowd began to quiet, looking so serene that it was almost creepy. He hated doing that. Beside him Theron gave him a loopy smile. “Whoooo, lookit this, Red.” he pointed at his feet, hovering off the ground. “Floaty!” he giggled. Voel cringed, turning the knob back a few notches. Theron dropped to the ground. “WHOA! I'M BACK! WHAT'D I MISS? HEY DOES ANYONE ELSE HEAR YELLING? STOP YELLING!”

Voel ignored his delirious Co-ruler to once more address the crowd. “Look, I know it's not an easy thing to accept. But the fact is that things must change if we wish to survive as a species. It's not what we're used to, I know. But artificial smeet production is no longer working. We are dying out. We cannot afford to make enemies. We cannot afford to leave the planet. We will have to repopulate. I would not ask this of my people if it was not necessary.”

Many members of the crowd began looking at one another, as if trying to imagine such a reality. Some looked unsure. Some looked scared. Some looked outright revolted. He understood. They weren't like most other species. They did not celebrate physical affection and they did not approve of the baser instincts of reproduction. They were not a species that learned by instincts in the first place. They hadn't in several eons. They were hatched from a tube and instilled with basic knowledge through their paks. That was what made them better. That was what made them superior. And now they were expected to go back to their old ways and engage in activities that had become taboo to them? Impossible.

Voel sighed before continuing. “The control brains have comprised a list of all irkens matched for mating. The matches assure stable smeets for the future. The control brains will code all of your paks to make this as easy as possible. From mating to smeet reering. It is non negotiable and is fully mandatory. Even we tallest will not be exempt.”

A few looks of shock and pity, even thankfulness. Though some looked unconvinced. One was brave (or dumb) enough to raise his hand. “Yes, you there!” Voel pointed. “You have a question?”

“Uh, yeah, so like if you guys have to do it too, then why are you leaving? Cause, like...you said it wasn't safe to leave and all, sooooo....?”

Theron pushed Voel aside to address what he perceived to be a heckler. “Hey, it's not like we wanna leave, guy. In fact I'd rather pluck my own eyes out. But as it turns out, our matches aren't on Irk soooo-”

“Where are they?” The irken crossed his arms, unconvinced.

Theron froze looking like he'd swallowed a lemon. He turned to look at Voel who simply shook his head. He'd dug his own grave. No helping him out of it.”

The purple eyed tallest began to sweat, rambling. “It's uuuh, It's complicated... and actually kind of funny, if you enjoy irony! I don't but, you might. Sooooo, the thing iiiiiiiiisssssssssit'searth!”

Everyone in the crowd stared, silently. The loudest thing that could be heard was the Irken equivalent of a cricket. Theron looked sick to his stomach. Voel silently wondered if he should just rip off his own pak and spare himself this suffering.

The unconvinced irken suddenly looked totally convinced. “Soooooo, that meeeeeaaaaaannnnnsssss-”

“YES! YES THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT MEANS! HAPPY? IF ME AND RED HAVE TO BE MATED TO SKOODGE AND ZIM, THEN YOU GUYS CAN JUST SUCK IT UP AND QUIT WHINING!”

And suddenly everyone looked sick. Violent retching could be heard behind them as Theron grabbed Voel and began dragging him back into the docking bay. “Come on, Voel, time to go to Earth. Let's go! Move it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry updates are taking so long. dialogue is hard. also I'm not trying to make fun of children, or sex, or gross out Ace people with this story. I myself am Ace. Please judge with a clear mind.


	4. Password Please

Ch 4

“Dammit, Zim, stop being an ass! I'm losing my grip.”

“On reality?” Zim gasped mockingly, fiddling with the lock. “Oh you poor, disturbed Dib-thing. Worry not, I'm sure the White-coats still have an extra large padded cell reserved just for your big, nightmare filled noggin.” Dib shuddered, mind calling up horrifying images of Nightmare Bitters. “Don't even joke about that. Just open the door before I drop these.” He wobbled about, trying to re-achieve balance as the boxes of pastries nearly toppled out of his arms.

“I'm trying! I think Gir spilled soda on the code lock again. It's sticky and smells like poop.” The Irken's lekku curled in disgust under his spiky, gelled wig. “COMPUTER!” he screamed, slamming his gloved fist into the door. “COMPUTER, YOUR LORD AND MASTER DEMANDS ACCESS TO HIS DOMAIN!”

Upon his orders, a camera scope extended down from above the door. The lens blinked at him in boredom. [PASSWORD.] a robotic voice drawled. “Zim is amazing.” the Irken replied, crossing his arms in irritation. Why should he even have to answer his own password? He'd only set it up so Dib would be forced to sing his praise if he wished to enter. It allowed the human access for emergencies, whilst simultaneously keeping him from abusing the privilege. Quite ingenious if he did say so himself.

[MMMM NOPE, THAT'S NOT IT!]

Zim gawked in outrage. “WHAT? HOW IS THAT NOT IT? I SET IT MYSELF!”

[GIR CHANGED IT WHILE YOU WERE OUT!]

An obnoxious snort from the human behind him caused his lekku to twitch in irritation. “Oh you have got to be kidding me! Gir can't override my authority. He's Gir!”

“YES I IS!” a high pitched shriek caused the irken to spin around, just in time to see the tower of donut boxes topple to the ground. Along with Dib, who was currently being hugged by a sticky green dog.

“I MISSED YOU, MARY!” the insane robot giggled. Dib smiled uneasily. “Uh, hey Gir. How's it going?” he asked, patting the robots, frankly unconvincing, disguise. He immediately regretted this action, wiping his hand in the grass with a cringe of disgust. Zim yanked the robot up by his collar, thanking Irk that he still chose to wear gloves. “GIR, WHAT DID YOU DO?” the former invader demanded.

Gir waved his nubby arms about in excitement. “I DRANK ALL DA FIZZY SODA!” he claimed proudly, before burping brown bubbles. Zim dropped him in revulsion. “Yes. Yes, you did. YOU ALSO SHORT CIRCUITED THE CODE LOCK AND CHANGED MY MASTER PASSWORD! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?”

“YES!” the robot barked, before quickly back-pedaling” Waitaminute...no.” he admitted blankly.

“It means no donuts.” Zim stated firmly, arms crossed in absolution.

Immediately, Gir dropped to his knees, wailing in despair. Dib covered his ears, trying to drown out the painful noise. Zim didn't even flinch, quite used to his minion's tantrums. “That's right, Gir. No donut's...unless...”At this pause, Gir stopped screaming, simply whimpering in a puddle of his own tears. Zim smirked. So predictable. “Unless, you give Zim the password to the door. Only after that will you receive sugary, fried, deliciousness. Understand?” Gir nodded frantically. “Okay then. Now give to Zim the password, Gir.”

Gir opened his mouth to answer... only to start coughing.

“Really?” Zim groaned in disgust at the gross, sticky, gagging noises. It sounded like the sugar was gumming up the robot's gears.

“Gir, just tell me the password.” he demanded. “Is it tacos?” That seemed like something the robot would choose.

Gir shook his head negatively, still hacking up bubbles.

“Is it taquito?” Dib tried, finally deciding to help.

Gir gagged loudly. Dib flinched. He'd take that as a no.

“Rubber piggies?” Zim added. “WHERE?” the human screamed, looking about in paradox induced paranoia of PTSD hallucinations. The irken rolled his eyes, before noticing that Gir was miming something.

The robot pointed at his master. Zim jumped in understanding. “Zim?” A nod. Progress. Gir wrapped his nubby arms around himself. “No, Gir. You cannot hug Zim.” The robot frowned, gurgling in frustration. Zim sighed in defeat. He picked up the sticky puppy in a semi embrace, patting him on the back awkwardly. A loud belch was finally released, along with what appeared to be an unopened bottle of soda. Zim stared at the carbonated drink in disapproval.

“Gir, what did I tell you about chewing your food?” he reprimanded. The robot ignored him, happily returning the hug with a joyous cheer.

“AH LUV ZIM!”

Zim flushed purple at his minion's outburst. “uuuuh...”

[PASSWORD ACCEPTED.]

“Huh?” Zim balked as the door unlatched and opened. “THAT'S the password?” he questioned incredulously. Dib approached, having finally calmed from his piggy panic. “Seriously?” he scoffed, only becoming more irritated when he caught the sparkle in Zim's contact covered eye. “You've gotta be kidding me.” the human groaned.

“It's perfect!” The alien cackled.

Oh, here we go.

“Now all who wish to enter Zim's base must swear their deep seeded admiration for Zim!” Dib watched in deep seeded hatred as the alien double over in mirth.

“You absolute tool. I'm not saying that just to hang out with you. Change it.” he demanded. Zim shook his head in denial, “Can't. Won't. Don't want to.” he grinned, petting his loyal minion on the head. “Besides, it would be rude after Gir put so much thought into it. Only someone who loves Zim more than Zim himself could have come up with such an amazing password, don't you agree.” Dib disagreed entirely. And made it known by marching inside and slamming the door behind him, leaving Zim to pick up the doughnut boxes. Unperturbed, the alien cackled. “Gir, pick up the donuts.” he ordered, shoving one in the happy robot's mouth.

“You're a good dog, Gir.”

“YAAAAY!”

“But also bad. Very bad, Gir. No more soda.”

“Awwwww!”  
________________________________________________________________________________

“SKOODGE!” Zim shouted, slamming the door behind Gir as the robot struggled to juggle boxes. Not seeing his chubby housemate he continued to the kitchen, ignoring the human that had plopped himself down on the couch.

He held back a laugh when he caught sight of the other irken. There Skoodge was, oblivious to his audience as he danced about the kitchen with a mop three times taller than himself, cat headphones blasting. The pudgy former invader was donning the most eye-watering pastel pink polo shirt with an ugly Hawaiian button up and baggy board shorts. Oh Irk, what were those on his feet? They had wholes in them and they were made of foam. What kind of useless design was that?

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Stayin' alive. Stayin' alive. Ah! Ah! AAAAHHHH!” Skoodge screamed, jumping nearly a whole foot in the air when he spotted Zim. The shorter irken cackled gleefully. “Zim! You scared the palooky out of me! What the heck, dude? And you're wearing your outside boots? I just mopped!”

Zim dropped down into a kitchen chair, unlacing his boots “As the humans say, don't have a horse, Skoodge.”

“It's a cow, Zim” Skoodge offered, mopping where Zim had just walked in.

“What's a cow?”

“The human's expression is 'Don't have a cow'!”

“That's stupid!” Zim scoffed.

Skoodge shook his head. “You've been here longer than me, Zim. You really should try paying attention to the language. You're going to need it to blend in.” Zim laughed bitterly. Skoodge sighed, setting down his mop to sit next to his partner in exile. “Zim, I know it's hard, but you're going to have to accept that we're going to be here for a long time. And you won't always have Dib around to correct you. Humans have short lifespans.”

“Pitiful.” Zim sneered. They were so feeble. So weak. The only one worthy of keeping around was Dib, and even he would die eventually. What would Zim do then? Waste away in boredom? Not likely....he'd be better off ripping off his pack before that happened. His claw twitched, inching toward his sleeve.

“Zim?”

He pulled back, blinking in confusion at Skoodge, who was starting to look worried. “I uh...I got donuts!” he blurted. Immediately the other irken was distracted. “Oh, are there any bear-claws?"

“A whole box.” Zim smirked in triumph, glad for Skoodge's sweet tooth. The other was successfully redirected to the sweet treats and away from Zim. “Thanks...But don't think you're off the hook just yet, mister. We still have to talk. But, only after donuts.” The shorter irken seethed. “Yes... after donuts.” he grumbled. Suddenly an evil grin made it's way to his face. “Oh, by the way, Skoodge. I also got you something to wash it down.” He pulled the bottle of soda out of Gir's faux paws, ignoring the robot's whines. Skoodge's gullible face lit up. “Oh, thanks, buddy.” the other smiled, twisting the tight lid. Zim stood nonchalantly, sauntering over to the toilet elevator. “No problem, buddy.” he chuckled, sinking down into the lab. The last thing he heard was the screaming of Skoodge as overly shaken soda exploded all over his clean kitchen.  
__________________________________________________________________________

“Computer, play 'Happy Pills' by 'Weathers'.” Zim ordered as the lift opened to the main lab.

[YES, MASTER.]

A few moments of silence ensued before music began to fill the lab, Zim nodding along as he removed his disguise. Much better. He was getting more used to the wig since he'd changed the style, but the contacts still remained scratchy and unpleasant.

With a skip in his step, Zim danced his fingers across several control panels as he passed them. Three tall storage units hidden in the metal walls spun open to reveal assorted items. He grabbed a few spray canisters labeled 'Liquid Spray Glue' with a contemplative hum. “Three should be enough to last the week.” he confirmed. “COMPUTER, ZIM REQUIRES HIS LARGEST TRAVELING BAG!” the alien screamed over the music.

[YES, MASTER.] the A.I. answered, quickly producing the requested item and placing it on a table. Zim quirked a brow as the music lowered into silence. [MAY I INQUIRE WHERE YOU ARE GOING?] The computer asked, conversationally. Zim shrugged, placing the canisters next to the bag. “The Dib-human requested my company for the passing week. I will be staying at his base until Friday, so I expect you to keep Gir out the toilet while I'm gone. The last thing I need is him changing anymore important pass-codes, or eating my experiments.”

[YES, MASTER. IT WILL BE DONE....BUT...] Zim bristled at the computer's hesitance. “Buuuuut?” he drawled, pushing for the question he knew was coming.

[IS THERE ANY PARTICULAR REASON FOR THE DIB'S REQUEST?]

“None that you should concern yourself with, no!” he snapped in defense. Far too quickly to not raise suspicion.

[IT JUST SEEMS ODD.]

“Odd how?”

[WELL, YOU DO INSIST THAT THE HUMAN IS NOT YOUR FRIEND.]

Zim scoffed. “Zim needs no friends. The Dib is simply a plaything. I'm just bored, and humoring the little worm-baby is a good way to pass the time.”

The computer seemed unconvinced. “UH HUH, SURE. AND AN ENTIRE WEEK COUNTS AS HUMORING HIM?”

The alien shrugged, dismissing the other's interrogation. “He clearly worships the ground I walk on. Why else would he wish for my amazing presence.” Even to him it sounded like a pathetic lie. He didn't care.

[PERHAPS YOU GAVE HIM A REASON TO WORRY?] the robot voice pushed. His master simply let out an amused chuckle. “Of course he's worried. I'm an unstoppable death machine. He's simply making sure I'm not up to any world conquering plots, is all. A paranoid presumption.” The computer gave no response. The crushing silence making Zim all too aware what a poor excuse that was. His guts squirmed uncomfortably as his confident smile faded into a sneer. 

“Oh, what would YOU know about it, anyway? Zim's private affairs don't concern you. Maybe it's a trap. Maybe the Dib plans to harvest Zim's organs. Maybe Zim knows this and is going anyway. It's not like you can do anything to stop me from going, so why even ask?” More silence. Zim scoffed. That's what he thought. There wasn't a single thing that the other could do short of telling Skoodge. Which he knew the A.I. would. All the more reason to not be there when it happened.

[I DON'T BELIEVE THE HUMAN INTENDS TO HARM YOU.]

Zim gave an empty laugh. “No, I don't believe so either.”

He knew for a fact that Dib wouldn't hurt him.

Even if he begged.  
______________________________________________________________________

Several galaxy's away two taller Irkens argued over a suitcase as well.

“Theron Plixnak, you are not bringing this junk!” Voel growled, pushing several bags off of the loading dock. Theron squealed in horror as one of the bags exploded open. Puppets flew every which way, as the purple eyed leader struggled to catch them all. “They are not junk, they are necessities!” he shot back before throwing a demanding finger into the face of a smaller Irken. “YOU! PICK UP MY BABIES.” he ordered.

Voel shook his head in disapproval. “You'll have plenty of babies once we get to Earth. But that will never happen if you don't stop cluttering up the Mega Voot.” He paused for a moment, eyeing the other with suspicion. “Wait a minute, are you purposely slowing us down?” Theron choked out an exaggerated scoff. “Pfft, what? Of course not! I'm offended you would even think that. I am a responsible leader, who is fully aware of this mission's importance.”

Voel rose a challenging brow, clearly unimpressed. Theron began to sweat, but still refused to let the other make him look stupid. So, true to his modus operandi, he deflected all blame and attention onto someone else. “In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if YOU are taking this seriously.” he crossed his arms in condescending superiority.

“WHAT?” Voel gaped, clearly offended. He only grew more indignant when the smaller irkens packing up the ship turned their curious eyes on him. “GET BACK TO WORK!” He barked. They all jumped and scattered, leaving him to return his glare to a more deserving party. “What exactly are you implying?” he hissed quietly at the purple eyed antagonist. The other simply rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on, Red. Have you put any thought into what's going to happen when we get to Earth?”

…

 

Oh...

 

“I...Uh...”

Theron smirked in amusement as his Co-Tallest struggled to procure a proper answer.

“We um....we get there and then......smeets...happen?”

The purple eyed irken's claw dragged down his face in second hand embarrassment. “Sometimes you can be really stupid, you know that?”

The other stayed silent. There was nothing he could say.

Theron sighed. “Disregarding the fact that you probably wouldn't even know where to start with mating, how exactly do you think Zim is going to react when we show up three years after exiling him?” That gross, sick feeling returned to Voel full force. He got it every time he thought of Zim. Ever since that day. Those dull, lifeless eyes.

“I mean, come on, do you actually think he'll just bend over and scream 'MY EGGS ARE YOURS, MY TALLEST!'” Voel snapped out of it fast enough to slap his claw of the other's big mouth. “Don't ever put that image into my head again.” No matter that it was more welcome than his previous thought. “And exactly how do YOU plan to handle Skoodge?” he challenged skeptically. Theron pulled the hand off his mouth with an indignant pout. “Oh please, that pudgy gremlin couldn't reach my eggs if he tried.” Theron scoffed.

Voel barked out a laugh, having a hard time imagining such a thing. “Oh, so you claim title of smeet-bearer? Never thought of you as the motherly type."

“Of course!” Theron crossed his arms stubbornly. “I'm not letting that tiny thing carry my offspring. He's too wimpy."

“He conquered Blorch.” Voel pointed out.

“Which is the only reason I'm allowing this.”

Voel shook his head in amusement. He felt much better talking about this as if it were a joke, than thinking of the reality.

“My tallest!”

Voel glanced down to see a smaller Irken addressing him.

“We've entered the coordinates. The ship is ready to depart.”

All mirth left the irken leader's face. This was it. He glanced back to the docking bay looking for any sign. Any way out of this. Instead he saw the faces of many smaller irken's staring at him and Theron expectantly. These puny, lesser irkens, who themselves had probably been matched with total strangers. At least he knew who he'd be dealing with. They had no clue and no choice. And they were looking to him and Theron to show them this was fine. That THEY would be fine.

He turned back to the ship.

“Let's go.”  
_______________________________________________________

“Wake up, Pig-smell. You're saturating my couch with your drool.”

Dib groaned as a gloved finger poked him harshly on the forehead. “Nnnghuh? Zim?” He looked about sleepily, rubbing the crust from his eyes. “How long was I out?” he mumbled.

“Two hours.” Zim stated matter-of-factly.

Dib narrowed his tired eyes. “Huh? Usually it takes you like...thirty minutes to pack. What gives?” he questioned. Zim avoided his gaze, pulling at his sleeves. If the human had been just a bit more awake...maybe he would have noticed.

“Gir, uh... filled my suitcase with bologna. It took a while to get the smell out.” He thanked Irk for his minions gross, unpredictably predictable behavior. It made him an excellent scapegoat.

Dib scrunched his nose in disgust. “Oh god, I hope you got all of it. That stuff still makes me sick.” Zim laughed cruelly. “I'll be sure to remember that. Anyway, we should leave before Skoodge finishes mopping the kitchen. I don't think he's too happy with me.”

Dib shook his head in disapproval at the alien's evil smirk. “Do I even wanna know?”

“Probably not. Anyway, I'm sure your parental unit is wondering of your whereabouts. Let's go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please go easy on me. Also Dib is Asexual in this so I'm not pairing him with anyone. Even if I love Zadr.


End file.
